


His Smol Boy

by SlytherKit24



Series: Childish Things [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Harry Potter, Bruises, Choking, D/s negotiatons, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Face spiting, Facials, Forced Orgasm, Hair-pulling, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Kissing, M/M, Nudity, Playful Harry Potter, Possessive Severus Snape, Post-Coital Cuddling, Punishment, Rimming, Spanking, Top Severus Snape, little exploration, safe words, sub space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherKit24/pseuds/SlytherKit24
Summary: Harry Potter is small.So small.Petite. Delicate.Potter was the type of small that Severus wanted to break into pieces so that he could be the one to put him back together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Series: Childish Things [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959403
Comments: 50
Kudos: 558





	1. Baby Steps

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, Chickenpets and Aristi_Fortuna, for helping me come up with titles!
> 
> Also, thanks so much, danniperson, for giving this chapter a quick look before I posted!

In the silent DADA classroom, Severus remained in his chair with a naked Potter on his lap, deeply asleep after their affair. He watched Potter sleep, feeling too many conflicting emotions to process them as he should. Severus' eyes wandered over Potter's face, paying attention to the little snores, the circle of drool forming onto his outer robes, and the small cut on pink lips. He usually would find the snores and drool off-putting. Still, with the boy looking wholly spent and satisfied, it was oddly endearing.

He brushed the sweaty hair away from Potter's forehead, fingers stilling at the sight of the scar. It was such an innocent-looking mark. Unremarkable, really, if it didn't hold the amount of history and pain that made Severus want to push Potter off his lap. Push the remainder of his stupid mistakes away from him. But then Potter sighed, curling himself tighter onto his lap, cheek scratching against his chest before settling back down.

How could he push Potter away now? 

Severus prided himself on being a man of excellent control and patience. A man that can resist any type of temptation thrown his way. It never came to his mind to sleep with Potter or any student in all his years teaching at Hogwarts. Then Harry Potter just had to get on his knees, ruining the control he spent years building and perfecting.

By no means was he blindsided by Potter's sudden infatuation with him; he was a spy for a reason. So, it did not take long for him to pick up on Potter's behavior. At first, Severus felt suspicious. Hateful, angry stares, insults, and even rude snickering was something he was used to. That was familiar. Comfortable, in a way. But these yearning, bashful gazes, and flushing red cheeks were dangerous. The only good thing about this was watching Potter try to be discreet, and what a piss poor job the boy did hiding his feelings.

When he realized that Potter had developed feelings for him, Severus spent hours thinking, trying to find out when and why Potter had a crush on his professor. There was nothing about him that Potter should like or even want. They could barely even handle being in the same room together, so what did the Gryffindor suddenly see in him?

He began to observe Potter much closer than before. Any chance he had the boy in his line of vision, Severus watched him; in class, with his friends at dinner, and he even began to appear more often in the Great Hall for breakfast. But the more he spied on Potter; the more his original opinion of him started to break away. It almost felt like he was looking at Potter for the first time.

* * *

Harry Potter is small.

So _ small. _

_Petite._ _Delicate._

Potter was the type of small that Severus wanted to break into pieces so that he could be the one to put him back together.

His classmates seemed to tower over him in the hallways, swallowing him up that the only thing visible about him were the tips of his hair. During a conversation, Potter needed to crane his head back just enough to maintain eye contact with friends. He always seemed to get on the tip of his toes to reach for some book in the library, and it was amusing to Severus watching him struggle and flail until he remembered his wand and used it to lower a book.

Potter forgetting to use magic happened more than it should. It was almost alarming how often he came across Potter having a delayed reaction using his wand. And yet, Severus seemed to look forward to it every time. Potter always looked confused, head tilted to the side before his green eyes widened, an embarrassing flush spreading down to his neck as he quickly reached for his wand.

It was charming, adorable, and he hated it.

Severus hated it so much that he began dreaming. Scenes with Potter sucking his cock underneath the desk, spanking his arse until he left marks, and fucking him on any surface available. He often woke in the middle of the night sweating and wet between his legs from another fantasy that Severus wondered if he really needed sleep to survive.

But, it wasn't the arousing fantasies that troubled him the most. Instead, it was the dream where Potter crawled onto his lap to cuddle while he read on the couch. Or the one where Potter rested his head against his chest, looking at him with pure adoration as he called him "Daddy" that it felt difficult to breathe.

Daddy. A title so unfitting that Severus believed it had to be a joke. He assumed that Potter would call him "Master" or his name, at least when he pushed him earlier. But then Potter stuttered "Daddy" in that sweet, pleading voice of his, and Severus knew that he wouldn't want to be called anything else.

Severus leaned his head back against the chair, absentmindedly petting Potter's head softly, wondering when it would be the best time to wake him up. Severus couldn't deny that he wanted Potter, but they had a lot to discuss. Too much to confess before anything else can even be considered. He wanted those green eyes to look at him with affection, to be grabbed by the slightly rough hands, kissed by those clumsy, yet eager lips. He wanted everything Potter was willing to give him.

"mmm…wh -" Potter murmured, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he slowly raised his head from his chest.

"You're alright, Potter," Severus said, slipping his hand down to Potter's neck, and keeping himself calm when he froze once he heard his voice.

"Oh…shit," he blurted, and Severus could see the blush spreading down to his neck.

"That does seem to be the most fitting response to our situation," Severus responded, rubbing his neck and shoulders in soothing motions.

Potter glanced at him for a quick second before looking back down at the floor. "Y-Yeah, yes, sir… Where are my glasses?”

The tension between them was starting to become unbearable, and Severus wanted to change that before Potter decided to bolt. Snape reached towards his desk to grab the round-rimmed glasses, but when Harry went to take them, Severus couldn't help but to gently nudge his hand away just so he could place them over the still red face. Potter really was like a small animal; skittish, but seemed to enjoy — almost seek — the simple physical touches that Severus wanted to give him.

"Do you need anything else?"

"No…I don't know. Do you, Da - I mean, Professor?" Potter asked, uncertain, still struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

Potter's awkwardness and shyness were a clear reminder that he was still very much a boy. One who spent more time trying not to die than dating or experimenting. He felt guilt begin to swim up to his chest at the realization that he took Potter's virginity in his classroom and treated him like some common whore. That shouldn’t have been Potter’s first time. But he also felt smug knowing that he was the one that got the privilege to see a side of Potter that no one will ever see. He was the man that Potter chose.

"I thought it was a dream," Potter said, nervously.

"One of many, I presume?" Severus asked.

“Uh…maybe. How did you find out?"

Severus snorted, and that's when Potter snapped his head up, looking at him in shock. "You didn't make it that difficult. Honestly, you need to work on keeping your emotions hidden."

"I wasn't that obvious. No one else seemed to notice," he said, sounding like a petulant child.

"Yes. But they are nothing like me, aren't they?" Severus said low and gentle, squeezing Potter's thighs comfortingly.

Potter gulped and started to squirm on his lap. “…n-no, sir."

"Am I making you nervous?" Severus asked, teasingly. He was thoroughly enjoying how easy it was making Potter fidget, and he wondered what else he could do to make that blush darken. 

"No! I'm fine. I'm just…I don't really know what I'm supposed to do now. Or what would be the right thing to say about  _ this. _ " Potter burst out as he gestured their current position, which made the Gryffindor robes wrapped around him slip just enough to expose his smooth shoulder.

And what a beautiful shoulder it was. From his neck to just a few inches down his arm, Potter's skin looked soft and warm. Barely-there freckles spread across the skin, and yet, it was completely bare of any mark created by him, which he needed to fix. Severus stifled the urge to lean forward and plant bruising bite marks all over just so that everyone would know who Potter belonged to.

Unfortunately, now was not the time to think about another round. Not when dinner was getting closer.

"Do you feel well enough to eat?"

Potter looked at him, confused. "Shouldn't we figure out what to do?”

Severus sighed as he gently nudged him off his lap. "We will, just not now. You need to go back to your friends and show them that your "snarky and mean" Defense Professor didn't hurt you too much."

"I think my arse would have to disagree with you, Da - Professor," Potter said, softly hissing when he reached underneath his robes and touched his sore cheeks.

"Would you like to show me?" Severus asked, unable to conceal his interest at seeing the marks.

He bit his lip and slowly turned to face the window, giving his back to Severus as he dropped his robes just below his arse.

"Beautiful," he whispered, clenching his hand into a fist just so he wouldn't touch the darkening red skin or trace the few marks that looked too much like his fingers.

"I won't be able to sit normally for the next few days," Severus heard Potter grumble, and that’s when he rose from his seat, placing his hands on the bare shoulders.

"You have no one to blame but yourself. No one told you to steal from the Restricted Section, did they?" he hissed in Potter’s ear, but there was no real anger in his voice.

Potter gasped and ended up dropping his robe to the floor as he twisted his head to look at him. Too many emotions swirled within those green eyes, and it took everything in Severus not to give in. Harry Potter had him wrapped around his fingers. Severus was confident that he had no idea how much power he had over him.

"Use your words…Harry," Severus reminded, placing a soft kiss right at Harry's temple.

"No, D-Daddy," Harry's breath quickened, and he tried to grind his sore arse against his front. 

Severus withheld a groan and stopped Harry's movements with a firm grip on his hips. "Are you going to behave once you leave my classroom?"

"Yes, Daddy."

He raised his hand from Harry's hips and rested it against his cheek, closing the distance between their lips to give Harry a tender, but possessive kiss. Harry seemed to collapse in his arms as they kissed, eagerly opening his mouth to let Severus' tongue slip inside. He swallowed every moan, sigh, and whine that Harry made, addicted to those sounds Harry gave so freely. As they parted, Harry's eyes were still blissfully closed, swollen lips wet with their spit. Severus couldn't help imagining how lovely Harry would look with cum dripping down his face.

"Good boy, Harry. Such a good boy for Daddy." Severus praised, stroking the soft cheeks until Harry's eyes fluttered open.

"More," the question sounded more like a command, and Severus smirked. He was going to spoil his boy. He just knew it.

"No. No more, Harry," Severus said, hushing the beginnings of a whine. "You are going to get dressed, have dinner with your friends, then you are going to meet me in my private quarters so we can talk."

"Just talk or…”

"We will see. Now hurry, or am I going to need to dress you myself?" Severus gave Harry one last peck before he stepped back, creating the much-needed distance between them and motioning to the clothes on the floor.

He watched Harry put on his school trousers, but then he stopped getting dressed, giving him an impish grin with his white school shirt undone and trousers hanging limply on his hips. "I think I need some help. Will you dress me, Daddy?"

They were going to be late for dinner, and Severus didn't care all that much. Harry — his boy, he hoped — needed his help.


	2. Grown Up Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a hot minute to get this chapter done, but I'm thrilled with how it came out!
> 
> Thank you so much, Chickenpets, for beta reading this chapter! I really appreciate your input and helping me flesh out certain scenes.

The crackling wood in the fireplace and the ticking clock above the stone mantle was the only sound in Professor Snape’s sitting room. Harry stiffly sat on the edge of Snape’s sofa, gripping the teacup tightly in his hands. His gaze flickered back and forth from his tea to Snape seated on the armchair, where he was sipping on his own cup as if the conversation they were supposed to have wasn’t something to stress about. Harry sighed and looked at the clock again. They’ve only been sitting in silence for less than an hour. But the tension in his back was starting to become uncomfortable. 

It’s not like Harry didn’t want to speak to Snape. He just wasn’t sure how to start. Now that some of the excitement has worn off, he was feeling sluggish and drained. The soreness on his backside felt worse, and it didn’t help that he had to pretend that he was perfectly fine during dinner. Putting on an act that sitting on the hard wooden bench as he tried to eat normally was difficult, so he spent the rest of the evening pushing his food around the plate. Maybe he was a bit hungry too. He slowly started to lean back into the couch but froze, hissing as that one movement aggravated the bruises on his backside. 

An amused hum made him look up from his half-empty cup to see his Professor with an almost smug expression on his face. A part of him wanted to throw the teacup at Snape’s face, annoyed that he would find humor in his pain. Still, another part wanted to crawl onto Snape’s lap and beg him to soothe his sore cheeks with his fingers. 

“It’s not funny, Professor,” Harry blurted, shattering the silence that has been growing between them. 

“What is? I did not say anything,” Snape responded, one eyebrow arching in curiosity.

“You like that I’m in pain right now.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Harry glared weakly at Snape, and when he tried to place his cup on the small table in front of him, he flinched, sucking in a breath from the ache. “It’s just…you hit really hard,” he whined.

“You were begging for more. I was only giving you what you wanted.”

“But that was after you asked if I could take it.” He knew he sounded like an upset child, but he couldn’t help it.

“And you did such a good job too, Potter.”

Harry sputtered, and he could feel his face growing hot as the ability to make words failed him, and when Snape chuckled, he ignored it and faced the fire, turning his back.

“Come now, Potter. You don’t need to be like that with me.”

He crossed his arms and pouted half-heartedly at the fire. 

“I’m not lying if that’s what you’re thinking. But, if you are hurting that much, I can always heal them for you,” Professor Snape offered.

Harry nibbled on his bottom lip. The thought of his marks being taken away didn’t sit well with him since he did actually like the sensation. He wondered if the skin looked darker or if any more of Snape’s hand was beginning to take shape on each cheek. There was also a small part of him that felt like he deserved to go through the next few days with a bruising backside.

“You’d really take them away if I didn’t want them?” Harry asked, turning his head just enough to let Snape know he was paying attention. 

“Just say the word.”

“I…no. They’re not that bad. I can handle it.” 

Severus snorted softly. “Is this another way of you telling me that you like them?”

“…maybe,” Harry mumbled, embarrassed.

“I don’t think I heard you correctly, Potter,” Professor Snape teased.

Harry couldn’t hold back the whine from his mouth. He was used to his Professor being cruel, but this felt different. He didn’t know how he should react to this light-hearted teasing that he felt his eyes begin to water. Maybe they should have set up an earlier time to meet, or perhaps he should have eaten more at dinner or taken a short nap before going down to the dungeons. He was focused on all the possible reasons for him to be feeling so fragile that he didn’t even notice Snape setting his cup aside and standing up to approach him, placing his large hand on his head.

“Too much?” He heard Snape ask, voice soothing.

He sniffed and leaned into Snape’s hand, where it was gently scratching his scalp. “I think so. I don’t even know why I’m feeling like this. I felt fine after I left your classroom.”

“It’s perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about,” Snape informed him as his fingers traveled down his cheek and brushed the wetness from the corner of his eye. That simple action only made his bottom lip start to tremble as the urge to cry redoubled.

“Yeah, because that explains so much,” Harry snapped, and maybe his voice cracked at the end, but he ignored it as he looked up at Snape for an explanation.

Snape continued gently petting Harry’s head, smoothing his hair down over his temples. “After what I did to you, it’s quite common to experience a negative shift in mood.”

“Oh. Does it happen to everyone?” Harry asked him curiously, and his eyes fluttered as he felt Snape softly tug on his ear lobe. Snape was so close to him that every breath was filled with the smell of potions, and somehow, the scent calmed him. “Sometimes,” Snape seemed to whisper, and Harry looked up at him, shivering at the sight of his heated gaze.

“Has that ever…” he started to ask but stopped when Snape’s hand cupped his jaw, tilting his head back further. 

Snape gave him a half-smile. “Adrenaline is a double-edged sword, as you know,” he said. “When the danger or excitement passes, it can leave quite a mark.” 

“Oh,” Harry began and frowned. “I guess so…I just never thought I’d feel like this after… you know.” He blushed again. He could feel it. “...Sex. Maybe I should have kept reading that book before we…” Harry trailed off grinning sheepishly at Snape.

“You wouldn’t have known this would happen,” Severus reassured him, then released his hold on his face so that he could finally sit beside him.

“But I -“

Snape raised his hand, putting a pause on his protests. “It was not your responsibility to know that you would react this way or, as some people say, “drop.”

“That’s what it’s called? Drop?” Harry asked as he leaned against the armrest, grunting softly as he stretched his right leg to brush against Snape’s thigh. Snape stared at his socked foot, and Harry hoped that his Professor wouldn’t move away. To his luck, Snape cupped his heel and positioned his foot on his lap. 

“Yes. I will take care to be more mindful next time.”

“N-Next time? Really?” Harry stammered, hopeful.

Snape squeezed his ankle tenderly. “I admit it did cross my mind to end it before we went too far. I should be reporting myself to Albus, and yet…I have you here in my room, letting you use me as your own personal footrest,” he joked as his hand began to caress up and down his calf.

“For a moment, I thought…I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.  Almost six years of being at each other's throats? Why would you? That's all I could think of when you kept me after class."

“I know you wouldn’t have confessed if I never kept you in class today.” 

Harry chuckled and relaxed further into his seat, now stretching his other leg over Snape’s thighs. “Probably not. But then I thought… since I’m going to die in the war anyway, it was worth a shot.”

Snape’s hand paused over his knee. “You think you won’t survive the war?”

“I’ve almost been killed loads of times. There’s only so much luck one person can have, you know? Do you really think you’ll make it out alive?” Harry asked him curiously. He knew that being Dumbledore’s spy was dangerous, and he was surprised to learn that Snape had survived this long in that position. 

Snape sagged into his seat, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I should take points away. Actually, no...I should give you detention with Filch. You really didn’t think it through, did you? Just “I’ll get on my knees for my professor and see what happens, eh? Gryffindors,” he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes at Snape. “Obviously, it worked, or we wouldn’t be here. Anyway, I felt like the worst that could have happened is you kicking me out of the room, throwing insults at me like you always do.”

“You don’t think I would have used your admission against you?”

Harry shook his head again. “No. Only because I know you like your privacy too much, and it’s not like you would have gained much spreading a rumor like that.” He laughed. “The mean Hogwarts professor, S-Severus Snape, seduced by his sixteen-year-old student, Harry Potter.”

Harry grinned at the glare he was given, then slowly reached down to his knee to grab Severus’ right hand; it felt cold. They weren’t the softest hands, nor were they the prettiest with all the stains and all the scars from cuts and burns, and who knew what else. But it still held beauty in the way it stayed relaxed as he traced the lines in Severus’ palm, and he remembered something in Divination. How the lines each held meaning about life, love, and some other stuff he couldn’t recall. But looking at the pale hand and those five lines made Harry want to learn everything he could about Severus’ life and if he had a place in it. 

“You do realize no one will believe that in court if we’re caught,” Professor Snape said pointedly and looked at their joined hands when Harry started to pull back each finger as far as he thought they could go.

“Yeah,  _ if  _ we get caught. It’s not like we’re going to be fu— I mean, doing  _ that stuff  _ in the open.”

“What do you mean by _that_ _stuff_?” Severus asked, eyes glittering with amusement.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Severus turned his body to face him, keeping a firm hold on his ankles. “I think you’re going to have to explain it to me, Harry.”

Harry tried to sink further into the sofa as his professor slid closer. “ _ Nooo… _ it’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t you want to tell me?” Severus cooed mockingly at him and raised his free hand to ruffle his hair. 

“Did you hit your head earlier? Or is your age catching up on you? Actually, how old are you?” Harry burst out, refusing to give in to what Severus wanted this time. There was no way Harry could tell Severus how good it felt being manhandled on his desk, or being stretched and filled by his cock, like they were just chatting over afternoon tea. So Harry defaulted into behaving like a brat.

And maybe, just maybe, the age question was a bit too far because the humorous expression was replaced with the same look he was given earlier in the classroom. The look that made his pulse skyrocket, that really did make him feel as if some predator cornered him.

Severus grabbed his right leg and swiftly maneuvered it so he could slip between Harry’s spread thighs. Harry let out a pain-filled yelp and reached up to grip onto his black dress shirt. 

“If you must know, I am thirty-six years old. Or is that too old for you?” Severus asked as he grabbed each wrist and pinned them over his head, leaving him open and defenseless.

“Nuh-uh, Professor,” Harry panted, closing and opening his hands nervously. 

“No, Harry. That won’t do. You know what to call me by now,” Severus gently encouraged. 

Harry resisted against the grip on his wrists, wanting to cover his face. “You’re being mean.” He felt aroused and a little bit frightened.

Severus’ grinned, and Harry could see his pale yellow teeth and the wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened. “You really are a terrible liar. Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“I’m not! It’s just…” Harry huffed but still looked at him pleadingly. 

Professor Snape released one of his wrists, and although he knew he could move it, he kept still. “You think no one else but me will understand your need to be cared for, to be looked after,” he whispered, reaching down to brush his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip.

“Pl-please…” Harry breathed, though he had no idea what he was even asking for.

Unexpectedly Severus’ thumb slid into his mouth. His other fingers resting softly on his cheek and underneath his jaw. Harry couldn’t help but whine around it, tasting the salt, enjoying the gentle weight on his tongue, and his eyes slowly started to drift close as he suckled on Severus’ thumb.

“That’s it, Harry.”

“..ah..y..” Harry slurred, closing his legs around Severus’ body, brushing his foot against his thigh.

“You want to please me,” Severus purred as he slid his thumb back and forth in his mouth. Harry didn’t move his tongue or try to take it further. He just relaxed into the sensations and nodded, clutching his legs around Snape’s waist, wanting him closer. 

“But that’s not all, is it, Harry?” Severus questioned, crooning at Harry’s mewl of disappointment when his thumb slid out, leaving Harry’s lips and tongue empty, yearning to be filled again. “You want to be good. You want to be such a good little boy for me,” Severus continued, now dragging his soaked thumb across his lips and cheeks. Marking him.

“ _ Daddy… _ ” Harry opened his mouth wider, blindly searching for that thumb, and sighed in contentment when he felt the comforting weight return.

Harry heard Severus chuckle. “Look at me, Harry…come on. My, my, you’re not here with me, are you?”

Harry cocked his head, confused and dazed. Unsure about what Severus’ meant about not being “here.” He’ll just have to remember to ask him about it tomorrow. Right now, he felt good, relaxed, and…safe? So he just laid underneath his professor, gazing at him drowsily, waiting.

“I’m going to remove my thumb from your mouth, and then I’m taking you to bed. Understand?” Severus said. All Harry could do was nod but still felt himself frowning when he felt the hand slip away from his face. 

Severus kept describing every step he was doing as he was taken to the bedroom. An alluring narration that kept him anchored to Severus. Harry wanted to feel more excited about being in Severus’ bedroom. He’d been looking forward to it all evening. But not only was he not “here,” whatever that really meant. He was also tired.

“It’s time to get into bed, Harry,” Severus told him as he removed his glasses to place them on the nightstand, then pushed him gently underneath the cool duvet. 

Harry stubbornly shook his head, failing to stifle a yawn. “I-I’m not tired.”

Severus slid right beside him and brushed his hair. “We really must work on all this lying,” he teased.

He tried to swallow another yawn, which only made his eyes water. “But…Daddy.”

Severus dragged him to rest his head on his chest, and Harry realized that he was no longer wearing a shirt as he felt the sparse chest hair tickle his cheek. “It’s late.”

“… morrow’s Saturday….want Daddy,” Harry pleaded, he knew he was stubborn, but he couldn’t help it.

“You already have me, Harry,” Severus reassured him. Maybe it was his tone of voice, or maybe it was the firm grip on his hair that finally, finally lulled him into the most calming sleep he could remember. 


End file.
